


Prosthetic

by moondirti



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Din Djarin is a Tease, Din Djarin's Helmet Stays on During Sex, Dirty Talk, F/M, Hand & Finger Kink, If You Squint - Freeform, Light Masochism, Mentions of Slavery, Naked Female Clothed Male, No use of y/n, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader has a robotic arm, Reader-Insert, Size Kink, Slow Burn, Smut, Touch-Starved Din Djarin, a very sassy one at that, by light i mean very light, reader is a bounty, the Hutts are corrupt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:27:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29214906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moondirti/pseuds/moondirti
Summary: You hadn’t expected the Mandalorian actually listen when you begged for his mercy - not with the hell you gave him in capturing you - nor for him to help you with your prosthetic arm. In return for the favour, you aid him with something else.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Original Female Character(s), Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You
Comments: 5
Kudos: 90





	Prosthetic

**Author's Note:**

> https://alkdi.tumblr.com/

Of all the times he would have chosen for the carbonite freezer to break down on him, tonight would have been at the very bottom of his list. Of course, life had to find a way to make him lose sleep - which he had been looking forward to for the entirety of his week-long chase around the galaxy, all in pursuit of a bounty that was,  _ frankly _ , worth less than his efforts to capture her. It was the dead of night, and the kid was in his little makeshift hammock up above Din’s cot, passed out after a hard day’s work of playing with his favourite metal bobble. Din envied the womp rat sometimes, really, especially in times like these, where his jedi-mind voodoo magic would do a great deal to help in restraining the trashing girl in his arms. 

“Stop.” His modulated voice was curt - short with her - in hopes to compensate for all the time it took to apprehend her. For such a small girl, she really gave him hell, and continued to do so now, even with her hands bound together. 

“Or what,  _ Mandalorian _ ? Gonna make me pay for all the fuel you wasted in getting me he-” The girl - whose name escaped him at the moment - let out a gasp, choking on what little air she had left as he kneed her in the stomach, legs kicking out at him as he clamped a hand over her running mouth. He sighed, body barely moving as his arms tightened around her struggling form, tired but willing to wait until she exhausted herself. 

She didn’t. It seemed that he had underestimated how much energy such a small vessel could hold, though he shouldn’t have - he had spent many a sleepless night watching the kid bolt around the ship in unrestrained vigour, after all. Eventually, though, as he grew ever aware of the quickly approaching deadline of his docking permit, he threw the bounty onto the floor, ensuring that her head hit the durasteel hard enough to pass out. Sighing, he stood up, looking down at her. While his helmet’s displays made her out to be little more than a heat signature, he could tell that she was attractive - enough so that she could make a good living as an escort or a holodrama star. Whatever in Maker’s name made her an enemy of the Hutts was sure a force to be reckoned with - but it wasn’t his job to find out. His job was to get her back to Mataou, assuring that his client took responsibility for her, and until then, it seemed that he would have to watch her.

-

The feeling of a cotton-stuffed head was one you tried to avoid at the best of times, dull headache hammering at your temples as you rose to consciousness from your unwilling ‘nap’. You tried to get a grasp of your situation before you opened your eyes and alerted your captor of your wakening; the last thing you needed right now was another strike to the head. Okay, so that’s one thing you did know - you were knocked unconscious by your Mandalorian bounty hunter, who, initially, had every intention to push you into his carbonite freezer. You could only deduce that it didn’t work, then, and that he was stuck with you until he could either get it fixed or when he reached his destination. Your hands were bound behind the chair you were slumped upon, shoulders screaming in misuse as they were pulled in an awkward position. Mechanical beeps and the occasional rush of air filled the otherwise silent room, and the flashes of light behind your closed eyelids told you all you needed to know - you were in the cockpit.

“I don’t know what you’re scheming, but I have a blaster on me and a button to engage your stun cuffs. Relent.” A modulated voice pierced your thoughts, deep and so robotic you found it hard to discern whether his words were a threat or an empty promise. You didn’t question how he knew you were awake, opting to stay silent as you blinked your eyes open and stared at the back of his helmet. He sat on the pilot's seat, a little way adjacent from you, gloved hands gripping the steering lever even though you were already in hyperspace. 

“Nothing you can do to me that I haven’t done willingly.” You took on a teasing tone, in favour of appearing inconspicuous as your hands tried to make quirk work of the complex machinery on your left arm, peeling back the skin graft at your elbow and making sure the wiring that connected your nervous system to the prosthetic arm stayed intact. Your plan was not exactly the most thought out, but it was in times like these where you thanked the Maker you were able to unscrew your forearm. 

In the meanwhile, you took in your surroundings. A med pack hung not too far away from your right, and you briefly wondered if it contained anything you could drug him with. That is, until you remembered the beskar that he insisted on adorning himself with, and how even the fire extinguisher beneath your seat wouldn’t make a dent in it. As your mind raced through every possible scenario, you quickly figured out that the only tool you truly had in your disposal was your tongue and quick wit - not that it worked in avoiding this whole mess in the first place, though. 

“You know, I’ve heard of you, Mandalorian. Went rogue and doubled back on a bounty for some Imperial client. The Hutt’s aren’t nearly as scary you know - I’m assuming that’s where you’re taking me. I bet that if some ‘tragic accident’ were to befall me and you weren’t able to deliver, they’d just send you on your merry way.” 

He stayed quiet, though you noticed the slight tensing of his shoulders at the mention of his betrayal to the guild. 

“Sensitive topic, huh? It’s alright, I have no ill-will. But I bet whatever changed your mind on that bounty, I’d be able to do double. How many credits did they pay you? I’m good on the money, I swear.” Internally, you knew that growing desperation was the only thing that kept you talking. You were, in fact,  _ not _ good on the money, and you doubted that it’s what this Mandalorian sought. 

“It was a kid.” Was all he said, and your comprehension skills took a while to catch up to what he meant.  _ It was a kid. _ A kid? Ah. So you couldn’t ‘do double’, unless it was double its age. You gave your forearm a tug, clenching your teeth in pain as it refused to come undone. 

“Okay. I take back what I said. I don’t have the credits, that was a lie, but I am cute, no?” You tried to pout, and it would have been more effective if the Mandalorian was actually  _ looking  _ at you, but he kept his helmet straight, seemingly fascinated with the ways the lights of hyperspace whizzed past. Shaking the expression off your face, you furrowed your eyebrows as hope started to dwindle. “Do you ever stop to consider why your targets have bounties on their heads in the first place?” You hadn’t meant for your voice to sound as dejected as it did, so you mentally slapped your face in reprimand. 

“You killed a Hutt Clan Leader.” Okay, so previously, you hadn’t held anything against the Mandalorian. He was doing his job, and you knew that this galaxy was not kind to everyone, especially with the ever-increasing fuel prices. But the way he uttered your crime, like an aloof Provost Marshal reading your case amongst a list of many others, with no second thought for context,  _ really _ infuriated you. You were careful not to let too much emotion seep into your next words, but you paused your attempts at removing your prosthetic with fear of accidentally breaking it in your anger. 

“He tried to sell me as some sex slave to a bunch of his associates. Bastard deserved it.” One thing you concluded about the Mandalorian was his inclination to sympathy - case in point, the kid he’d saved from the clutches of the empire - and while you didn’t lie to him, you did feel bad playing the emotional manipulation card. You didn’t want his pity - it wasn’t some weak point for you, you got over it pretty quickly after driving a vibroblade through your assaulters guts. But it was your last, quick-ditch attempt at convincing him, and it seemed to have somewhat worked, judging by the way his helmet tilted slightly to the side, glancing at your incapacitated state. 

“I don’t intend to make an enemy out of the Hutts.” He sighed, the voice modulator picking it up as no more than a hitch in breath as he finally relinquished his hold on the steering lever, turning his chair to face you. This was the first time you got a proper look at him, or at least, a proper look at the gleaming Mandalorian armour. His shoulders were broad, somewhat accentuated by his pauldrons, but you could tell he was a hulk of a man just by the way his thighs stretched his trousers as he leaned forwards. His elbows touched his knees as he cocked his head at you, waiting for you to further negotiate.  _ Okay, so your bet worked.  _ And, it seemed, you finally managed to detach your robotic limb from it’s socket. 

“As far as you’re concerned, I died in a shootout. Here,” You stood up, flinching as his hand shot up to the blaster at his hip, lifting up your right arm in defense as you moved to hand him your forearm. You noticed as he reeled back, likely in shock, at your sudden freedom and missing limb. “Take this back to them. Last I remembered, it ‘devalued’ my price on the slave market.”

-

You’re glad you had the foresight to pack an extra prosthetic, especially glad at the fact that you commissioned a skin graft to go along with it. The Mandalorian - Mando, as you liked to call him - had been gone for a couple of hours now. He was begrudging to leave you alone on his ship, but as you reminded him that _ ‘Hey, there’s not much I can do with a missing arm’ _ , he came around - not before stripping you of every thing that could be considered a weapon and inputting his biometrics so that only he could pilot the ship, of course. 

You had briefly wondered what it was he was trying so hard to protect as you bid him goodbye in the Hull, setting your tools on the ground as you plopped down and began attaching your spare arm to your left elbow. You weren’t left wondering for long, however, as a series of babbles caught your attention, erratic movement in your peripheral disrupting your focus. You looked up, cooing at the tiny green alien that waddled towards you. His big, brown eyes seemed stuck to the mechanics in your left arm, three tiny fingers gripping the pinky before he pulled it and stuck it in his mouth. You had barely pulled away before he was whimpering, small arms reaching out for it. 

You began to understand Mando, for if it were you, you’d betray an entire guild for the creature as well. Murmuring your apologies, you pulled him up on your lap as you let him fiddle with your mechanical fingers. You didn’t know what it was that interested him so, maybe he just had a penchant for metal things, but you two sat in satisfied silence as you worked on reattaching your arm. He would occasionally jabber incoherent nonsense up at you as he fiddled with your fingers, and you made it your mission to fill in the blanks for him and come up with an adequate response. He always seemed satisfied with what you said, so you gave yourself a figurative pat on the back for your fluency in baby talk. 

-

The kid was fast asleep on your lap when the telescopic gate opened with a shudder, Mando’s imposing silhouette emerging from the cloud of dust. He seemed intact, though if his aggressive strides were anything to go by, the negotiations didn’t go as planned. You assumed he didn’t get paid in full, not that you expected him to, but he got quite a large bounty off your back, and you couldn’t help the swell of warmth in your chest at the fact. He was kind, despite the front he put up. 

“Thank you. I am ever in your favour.” You whispered, smiling as gently at the armoured man. He nodded - there wasn’t much else to say, but as he reached down for the kid in your lap, he ushered to your prosthetic. 

“Need help?” You couldn’t tell if he had some mind reading chip implanted in that helmet of his, because  _ yes,  _ you did need help. You weren’t incompetent at mechanics, but you only had one hand and and the last screw was in some hard to reach place. Looking up at his T-shaped visor, you nodded as a sheepish grin tugged at your cheeks. As he moved to set the kid down in some egg-shaped pod that hovered nearby, you scooched over to give him ample space to sit, watching as he took the time to tuck the child in and bid him a goodnight. Your heart fluttered at the gesture; while the sight of a ruthless killer taking every precaution to make sure his kid was comfortable was definitely not what you expected of the day, it was welcomed nonetheless. He soon made his way to you as you subconsciously preened, grinning stupidly at him as he sat himself to your left. 

Your words of thanks caught in your throat, breath faltering as he peeled his gloves off. You didn’t know what you were expecting, the delicate wiring would make working with them difficult, after all. Nonetheless, your mind exploded in disarray, each idea more lewd than the last as he slowly revealed himself to you. His hands were big, fingers large enough to engulf yours. Somehow, even before you caught sight of it, you knew that his skin would be a brilliant tan.  _ It suited him _ , you thought, and wondered if the rest of him was as golden - though that train of thought quickly led you somewhere you didn’t want to go. Naturally, his calluses made him slightly rough to the touch, but such a warmth emanated from his palms that all you wanted to do was lean into them. He gently tipped your elbow up, helmet low in consideration as he picked up a miniature screw and put it in place, nimbly working in fastening it. 

You couldn’t take your eyes off him, and you knew he felt your stare bore into the top of his helmet . You questioned if he would be just as careful when going down on you, thumb just as steady against your clit as it was securing the screw in place. Your core throbbed at the thought of his hands against you, parting your thighs to make room for him. Heart hammering against your ribcage, you redirected your thinking, instead entertained a method of payment in return for his favour to you.

“I-I can’t pay you back for your kindness, Mando.” You muttered, voice scratchy in misuse. The hull was suddenly chilly, and he seemed to be the only warmth you wanted to cling to as he reached for the skin graft, sanitizing it before beginning to fuse it to the machinery on your arm. He started at your elbow, wrapping it around before moving down, fingers expertly folding the faux skin and using an agent to melt the graft to the machinery. 

“No need.” He wasn’t much of a talker, yet you continued to chase his words like doses of spice. With the slight gruffness of his voice; you could imagine him whispering into your ear as he pinned you against a wall. You opened your mouth to reply, before quickly biting down on your words as he finally reached your fingers. He moved precisely, creasing the skin over every nook and crevice. Your sensory receptors picked up on the delicate touches, striking a cord within you as you reached up and stopped his hand with your right one. His fingers jolted underneath your grasp, a sharp sound escaping his vocoder. 

“I’m sorry! ‘M just ticklish there.” You stammered, anxious smiling plastered on your warm face as he finally looked up to observe you. What once was an empty visor was now an abyss as you got lost in the chilling blank, praying to the Maker that you were looking into his eyes. You imagined them to a deep brown, almost as dark as the guard that kept your gaze stuck to him. Your fingers absentmindedly traced the veins on the back of his hand as his thumb twitched underneath your hold. It was only now that you remembered the undeniable warmth emitting from him. You just wished he would caress your face and lend some of it to you. 

You wondered if that’s just how he always was, or if you had a similar effect on him as he did you; because right at your core - in that place between your legs - a fire was raging. You mentally reprimanded yourself at your poor sense of self-control; getting worked up over a simple touch like a depraved schoolgirl. You hadn’t reacted this way when he had captured you, pinning you up a tree as he forced you into stun cuffs - but perhaps because that was life and death, and  _ this, _ this was just life. Pure, unadulterated life, shooting through your body like a stream of wanton desire, only to accumulate in your panties. 

Eventually, the tension was broken as Mando cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. He had never consented to your touch, and certainly didn’t feel comfortable as you ogled at him. Snatching your hand off his in embarrassment, you stammered a quick thanks, making quick work of avoiding his gaze as you rushed to put away all your tools and clean up the area. You didn’t look up until Mando had climbed up to the cockpit, leaving behind an even heavier silence. You flexed your hands, attempting to process the flurry of emotions that rushed through you. Shame, unease,  _ horniness _ . You never intended to take advantage of his kindness, and now you had put him on edge with all your pent up, hormonal feelings. 

The ship took off soon after he left, but you remained on the floor of the Hull, the vibrations from the durasteel underneath you doing little to help the ache in your cunt. Where did you intend to go now that you needn’t worry about the bounty on your head? You hoped Mando planned on dropping you somewhere close, both so you could shorten this excruciating trip and be able to relieve yourself as soon as possible. Before then, though, you meant to apologize to the Mandalorian, and possibly award him with the few credits you had. You waited for the telltale jolt that would alert you of the jump into hyperspace, before scrapping up your remaining courage and venturing upstairs to the cockpit.

Mando sat, unmoving as the blast door shut behind you. Hyperspace drew streaks of light upon his helmet; the reflective armour only succeeding in drawing all your attention onto him. He stayed silent as you sat in the co-pilot's chair, though you knew he was aware of your presence. The entire process was nauseating - you didn’t know what to say, how to begin to apologise to the silent man of steel in front of you. So you began from what you knew.

“I’m sorry, Mando.” Sorry for what, exactly? You don’t know; in truth, you weren’t sorry for the moment both of you had, but rather for your assumption of his feelings. You didn’t know whether abstinence was a part of ‘The Way’, or if he just wasn’t attracted to you, but you had crossed a line. “I made you uncomfortable. That wasn’t my intention. I just-” What you were  _ not  _ going to do was tell him how hot and bothered his hands had made you. 

“You didn’t.” His blunt demeanor was never something you’d get used to, and before your reeling mind could pinpoint what exactly he meant, he swiveled the pilot's chair to face you. You were normally competent at reading someone’s feelings, but with the helmet and beskar, you were completely in the dark. “Your hands. They’re soft,” An intangible static escaped him, something akin to a cough. “I wanted to- I had to pull away. My thoughts were unfair. I apologize.” While his words were still ambiguous, you could tell he was genuinely  _ trying _ . A realization dawned upon you right then; Mando wasn’t silent by choice, but because he struggled with words. Your heart softened at the revelation, and you nodded, trying your best to convey to him that ‘ _ It’s okay, I understand.’  _ Your attempt at empathy might have been overshadowed by your incredibly red face, but hey - at least you tried. 

“They aren’t unfair.” You took a deep breath, slumping off your seat and kneeling at his boots. Looking up at his visor, your pupils searched for eyes you wouldn’t find. “I want them. ‘Want you, Mando.” His hands were still bare, settled against the beskar cuisse on his thighs. You brought yours up, fingers bending in hesitation as you looked up for consent. He nodded, and you took that as a sign to cradle his hands in yours. Tracing your fingers on his palms, you marked the crisscrossing, interwoven lines that told the stories of his years. His pinky twitched, and you smiled up at him as you continued your light touch. 

“Sweet girl,” He groaned, clutching your fingers in his. If the growing bulge in his pants was anything to go by, you would say that he appreciated your advances. You took it one step further as you guided his fingers up to your open mouth, languidly tracing your tongue over the tips. You embraced his caress as it came, nuzzling against the hand he spread over your cheeks as he pushed you further down on his middle and ring finger. They hit the back of your throat before he pressed them down on your tongue, his shallow moans at the warmth of your mouth only egging you on further. 

You continued to suck on his fingers, yet your body yearned for more. You wanted his length gagging you, hands to grip your hair as he used you to get himself off. You clenched your thighs together at the thought, trying to generate enough friction to get yourself off. “M-Mando…” You whined as he lightly slapped your cheek in response, finger tracing the shell of your ear. “Want your… Want your cock,” Your muffled whines were laughable - pathetic in their attempts to seduce.  _ ‘Still effective,’  _ you thought, watching with wide eyes as his length jumped from underneath all the fabric covering him. You itched to just rip it all off, reduce the layers between his skin and yours and absolutely devour him whole. 

You choked as he ripped his fingers from your throat, quick to unbuckle his belt and pull his cock out. You keened in excitement, desperate to please him in whatever way you were able to; show him how grateful you truly were for his mercy, give your all into pleasing him. Once his cock was finally free, you took a moment to survey it. He was ample in every sense of the word. Lengthy and thick enough to dwarf your face as you stared at it. It was flushed a gorgeous pink, veins along the shaft throbbing in restrained desire. He tapped it once against your pouting lips, before pushing it in impatiently. The groan he let out was primal, clear even through the helmet he wore. You hummed around him, delighted that you were able to make him feel good. You ran your tongue along his slit, lapping up at the precum that dribbled out before taking more of him in. His girth stretched your lips, filling your mouth as you tried to hollow out your cheeks to accommodate him. 

As you tried to set a pace to bob your head, your ears tuned in to the words that escaped him. You hadn’t noticed before, the mechanical beeps around drowning the filth he uttered, but once you caught on, you felt yourself get lightheaded. “Such a sweet girl, I- fuck… So good to me, so willing…” You doubted he even heard himself, but the praise urged you to go on. The hand you didn’t have wrapped around the base of his dick slowly inched its way to the hem of your pants, slipping under your panties and grazing your clit. You whimpered onto his flesh, drool coating your lips as you started to stimulate the bundle of nerves. Your hips bucked forward, and you began to forget the task at hand - losing the pace in which you bobbed your head along his length in favour of grinding against your palm like a wanton whore. 

Mando noticed your current disposition, cooing as he pulled you off his cock, gripping your chin and smoothing the hair out of your face. “Tell me what you want,” His voice was soft, genuine in his venture to please you. And you? You wanted so desperately to please him, but you were getting so worked up that it was hard to ignore. “Come on, sweet thing.” 

“I-I want you inside me, Mando.” You tried to breathe, but the scent of his sex right underneath you and the thick pining between you two, you found it difficult. You scrambled to your feet when he nodded, knees wobbly as the slick between your legs coated your inner thighs. He took you in as you stood right before him, hands fiddling with the material of your shirt, before he began to work the button of your pants open. You moved to help him, shedding your tunic and unclasping your bra, the speed in which you did so almost comical next to the leisurely way he peeled your leather pants off. Your clothing was discarded on some forgotten corner of the cockpit as you hurriedly straddled him, hands entangled in the cloak upon his shoulders. 

Mando was pinching the flesh at your sides, moving upwards until he reached your breasts. His fingers grazed your perky nipples, circling them with all the respite in the world. You whispered his name, urging him to cut the teasing and just fuck you already, but it seemed he had other plans. “Can I?” He referred to your breasts, very vague but at that point you didn’t care what he chose to do with you. You gave your consent, yelping soon after as he pinched your buds and pulled. The pain lighted your nerves, spreading across your breasts as your body tried it’s best to get off on that alone. Your hips inched closer to his exposed cock, your pussy attempting to find friction of any sort, but he stopped your advances. 

His palm cupped your core, heel of his hand applying a delicious pressure to your clit as his fingers examined your dripping slit. “So wet, baby. Is this all for me?” He cocked his head, top of his helmet nudging your forehead when you failed to give a proper response. You were boneless against him, so needy for any sort of stimulation that you were reduced to a babbling mess. Your words game out in whimpers and whines, drool dripping and mixing with the other juices that coated his lap. Your arms slipped around his neck, clutching his cape tightly as you peered into his visor. Your foreheads were touching, legs entangled, and just as close as any other couple would be. But you yearned for his skin - to kiss his neck as he teased you, to drag your fingers across the swell of his muscles and trace every scar. You knew that wouldn’t be bestowed upon you, though, so you tried to make do with his hands and his dick alone. 

He trailed his hands down to the swell of your ass, and as he kneaded at the flesh there, you swore you saw stars (apart from the quite literal stars outside). He sure was taking his time in taking you where you needed to go, not that you minded. You doubted this would be a recurring thing, and with the way he was working you up right now, you knew you would never encounter a lover as intoxicating as Mando.

Soon enough, though, he was pushing your ass up, guiding your hips to hover over his dick. “You’re so warm, sweet girl. So ready for me to stuff my dick into.” He muttered, prompting you to sob your pleas that he just  _ stick it in already.  _ He rubbed the tip along your slit, continuing to talk pure filth under his breath as you steadied yourself on his broad shoulders. When he began to push into you, you quickly reconsidered everything that led up to this moment. He was fucking huge, and was likely to split you in half if you continued in this position. Every inch felt like it would bruise your cervix, and when you thought he had finally sheathed himself fully within you, he pushed in a final inch. 

Your breath was caught in your throat as you struggled to comprehend your fullness. Mando cursed your name - you didn’t think he remembered it - grasping onto your waist and trying his damndest not to hump up into you as you adjusted to his size. It took you a moment to find your voice, muttering something about a change in position that you yourself didn’t fully comprehend. Your face rested in the crook of his neck, attempting to stay conscious through the mind-numbing pleasure humming through you. Mando seemed to understand, jumping from his place with you in his arms, placing your back on the floor as he pushed your legs apart. 

“You’re so small… F-fuck! ‘Can barely fit inside you.” His hips snapped against yours once, twice, before he started ramming into you at a buck-wild pace, a series of  _ ‘sweet girl’  _ and curses leaving him. Your hands hammered onto the floors, screams erupting from you as he rubbed your clit. Every nerve of yours was alive with overwhelming pleasure, and you weren’t sure when your first orgasm washed over you, but you knew that they slipped in quick succession afterwards. Your cunt clenched around Mando’s thickness, fluids gushing from you in embarrassing amounts as you wailed his name and whatever else crossed your mind. 

You began to wonder how long he would last before he pinched your arm, moaning something about  _ ‘where’ _ . His hands tensed against your flesh, hips staggering as you screamed. “Inside! Maker- Oh fuck, Mando! Inside!” You had an implant, of course, but even if you didn’t, you weren’t certain your answer would have changed.

Hot spurts of cum coated your walls, cold durasteel juxtaposing the heat you two shared. It was pure sin, the euphoria that overcame you as you joined him in release. Your gut wrenched, sweat cascading down your neck and hands scratching at the textured floor. You didn’t care how you sounded or how you looked, just glad that the armoured man above you graced you with his delicious moans. He continued to pump into you despite his orgasm, fingers smoothing over the bundle of nerves under your hood. Your entire body trembled as he pulled out, semen dripping out of your lips and making a mess of the ground beneath you. If you had the mental dexterity to conjure up an image of how you looked at the moment, it would be too filthy to process. Cum rolling down your cunt, drool coating your chin and hair a rats nest. But as you looked up at Mando, with his words of praise falling on deaf ears, you felt like the most darling girl in the galaxy. 

“You did so good, sweet girl.” He commended, moving to rest beside you. His fingers fiddled with yours, hands refusing to leave you even after completion. You only managed a hum in response, eyes fluttering shut in fucked-out oblivion. 

“All you…” Your voice was just below a whisper. 

“The kid. He likes you.” Despite your growing adoration for Mando, you had to wonder what in Maker’s name prompted him to bring the kid up  _ now. _ Until he continued, “‘Was wondering… You could stay, watch over the kid when I’m out. I need a hand.” 

“Don’t have any spare ones in my bag, if that’s what you’re asking.” He chuckled at that, and you tiredly grinned at the noise. His laugh suited him, and you would make yourself a fool if it meant you got to hear it again. “I’d like that.” You added, just to assure him that you would like to stay here, with  _ him _ . The kid, it seemed, was an added bonus. 

“Good. Get some rest, sweet girl, I’ll clean you up.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic on ao3, and it's lowkey intimidating but I hoped you enjoyed? I procrastinated studying in favour for writing this. Keep in mind that this is un-beta read so there might be a few errors I missed.


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